#033
Her lips parted and closed repeatedly as if she were about to say something, but what Chezare revealed in the end was...
"Here."
A white rose, even purer than the pale palm that cradled it.
It wasn't hesitation—he simply paused in silence, choosing his words carefully, before slowly opening his mouth.
"I'm sorry for tiring you out with all those unnecessary fools. Keep this flower by your side while you sleep, and you'll dream the dreams you desire. You'll even be able to meet your late mother. If you wish, it doesn't have to be just for one night—you could use it for much longer."
"How long?"
"Until my life ends."
It meant it wouldn't wilt for a lifetime.
"And, Catherine. I nearly forgot the most important thing."
"Just how much more do you have to say? Why don't you just stay over at my place tonight?"
"I'd love nothing more, honestly. Truth be told, I'd like to keep you in my sight at all times—or better yet, tucked right against my side whenever I venture far."
"...I've never heard talk like that before. You're not falling for me, are you?"
Chezare smiled radiantly, like a flower in full bloom.
"A joke? I wouldn't know where to even begin laughing."
Making me embarrassed like this.
As she let out a small, awkward cough, Chezare pulled something from his breast pocket and handed it over. It was the finest quality parchment stationery, the kind she'd often seen during her time in Orleans.
"What's this?"
"Nothing grand—just an invitation to a banquet."
"Why give it to me?"
"Naturally... because I'd like you to attend with me. Read it over before the day's end. I'd prefer if you didn't refuse. It's not some deeply meaningful event—just a social gathering for eating and mingling, so no need to feel burdened."
She didn't even have time to respond. Turning his back to her, Chezare vanished from the mansion without a trace.
"At least say goodbye."
Back to the ducal residence? Or had he gone to the Papal Court as he'd warned? Curiosity gnawed at her.
Catherine, what's that black bag?
"This? I think it's full of cash. That's why I went to see him in the first place—to get paid."
Aigoo. Just one bag and a fistful of money? Catherine, you're such a pushover. When you're already giving your soul to a demon, you should've demanded something flashier. Like a giant diamond rice bowl, or diamond-studded human steak...
"Your tastes must be easy to satisfy."
Yaong seemed to think anything studded with diamonds was automatically fabulous.
Catherine headed straight back to her bedroom and, since it had come up, opened the bag. Its thinner-than-expected bulk suggested it wasn't the fortune she'd imagined.
This isn't what I wished for.I'll have to haggle with him tomorrow.
For now, she'd need to divide it up properly to hire a maid.
But her plans crumbled the instant she dumped the contents out.
Clink!
Yaong, nosing through the pile with tiny paws, suddenly reverted to its original form, baring its teeth. Something crunched under its massive body and wings—a glass bottle shattering.
Grrrrowl!
Chezare's the worst! A rotten scammer! He said he'd give money, but all he sent were weird scraps of paper!
"Calm down, Yaong. This isn't the weird scraps you think it is."
They were blank checks. A whole bundle—a hundred of them, to be exact. Utterly unreal.
Blank checks guaranteed by the Imperial Bank, and half endorsed by Queens Bank, usable even in countries where Imperial notes weren't accepted.
Catherine pinched her cheek, wondering if it was a dream. The pain confirmed it was real.
If it's not weird, then what? Unpleasant junk? Look at this! He even sent paper with drawings on it to mock you!
"It's not paper with drawings."
Oh? Then what? Sniff sniff.
Yaong shrank down and sniffed the paper Catherine held. It was a ticket to Jenan Parhenrine's luxury passenger liner. A VIP ticket, stamped with the ship owner's seal—no less than one.
Ahh, damn it.
Now she had to board that merchant ship. Its furniture exhibition was calling her name.
✽ ✽ ✽
The next day at noon, as dry winds began stripping the browned leaves from the trees one by one.
Yaong, who had been rolling around up in the tree, came into her bedroom.
Catherine.
"Yeah?"
Just in case you didn't notice, Chezare stopped by a while—a looong while—ago.
"Again?"
She descended leisurely to the drawing room, where Chezare sat sipping tea, having arrived silently once more.
"Took you about twenty minutes."
"Say something when you arrive, Chezare. Do you enjoy making me wait?"
"That's rather romantic. Let's say it is."
For once, he was dressed in a way that perfectly befitted his title of Duke Christopher: a crisp three-piece suit, a russet tie, and elegantly swept-back hair. Add the silver-framed glasses that were his trademark, and he'd be the picture-perfect Duke Chezare.
Catherine didn't hide her admiring exclamation.
"Got a banquet tonight? You look really handsome today."
"Hm. Glad it shows. We're heading to the theater with you right now, after all. I put in some extra effort for once."
"...Pardon?"
He didn't give her time to process her bewilderment.
"Do you have something to wear? Of course, I wouldn't mind if you went out just like that, Miss Catherine."
"Theater out of nowhere? I don't have anything suitable to wear for that."
"No suitable clothes? What about the money I gave you?"
"I'm busy budgeting with that. I was planning to acquire clothes gradually, given time."
Chezare smiled warmly.
"No need to worry. I came prepared, knowing that would be the case."
Prepared what?
Instead of answering, Chezare fell silent as familiar voices erupted from the hallway outside the drawing room, accompanied by girlish laughter.
"Miss Catherine!"
"Come on, miss—let's get you all dolled up! We've got everything ready upstairs."
Hands grabbed her arms amid the lively chatter—the maids who always served tea during visits to Chezare's villa.
"Wait, where are you—"
"Hurry!"
Their grip was ironclad; she couldn't even struggle. Had they bulked up their arms like athletes?
As they led her up the stairs, the maids whispered and giggled.
"It's the first time His Highness has fussed over a lady like this."
Well, yeah—I'm his contractor, after all.
"We're so nervous right now. When you become the duchess, you have to call us over! Got it? The annex at Christopher is so stuffy."
These maids seemed to be under a massive misunderstanding.
They shoved Catherine into a second-floor room and locked the door. A chill hung in the air at the center, where Roze stood holding needle and thread.
"Miss, try it on quick. The dress is just so pretty."
With even trusted Roze joining in, the three maids stripped and redressed her.
I never agreed to go...
The dress was exquisite—the fabric's quality was superb, aside from the cinched waist. The touch against her arms and shoulders was astonishingly soft. How long had it been since she'd worn something like this?
"How's it fit?"
"Perfect."
"Heh, we've got a good eye. Nailed your measurements after just two meetings!"
"Ah, next time, come to me before seeing the miss. I'll give you even more precise ones."
"Oh my, will do, Miss Roze."
They looked so blissfully happy that she couldn't bring herself to say this wouldn't happen again.
Finally, they topped it with a wide-brimmed hat, and she stepped out of the mansion with careful strides. Thanks to years of high-society training, the high heels weren't too uncomfortable despite the hiatus.
Ugh! Catherine stinks! My nose hurts!
Yaong leaped toward her but rolled into the grass instead.
"It's perfume. A scent to make others find you attractive."
Ugh... not attractive, just painful... I'm taking the day off.
Covering its nose with a paw, it hopped away into the garden.
Catherine watched its adorable retreating figure before heading to the gate.
There stood a large carriage, with Demian chatting glumly to Chezare.
As she approached, Chezare turned. His eyes widened in surprise before crinkling pleasantly.
"The green tones suit you remarkably well."
Even that simple compliment made her cheeks flush inexplicably. High-society gentlemen would have piled on the flowery praise—Spring Goddess descended, beauty to make flower fairies weep—but she preferred Chezare's light, sincere words.
"You said you were from a titled house. The young lords must have flocked to you."
"Of course. There was even a guy who cried begging to see me because he liked me so much."
Chezare's face twisted in dilemma—believe her or not?
It's true.
Instead of explaining, she turned to Demian beside them.
"But why are you bullying Demian again?"
Demian jumped in as if waiting.
"Miss, about that shipboard party. Can't I just skip it?"
What was this sudden talk? From the context, Chezare had assumed she'd join and ordered Demian to shadow her.
"I've got so much to do right now. A week of you enjoying the cruise, and I'll have the garden perfect. No more eyesore construction mess for me."
If Demian had at least pretended to care about the garden, she might've understood. But his brazen face changed her mind.
Lazing all day and now bringing up the garden?
"No escaping. You're sticking right by my side. ...By the way, Chezare, when's boarding day?"
Leaning against the carriage, Chezare checked his pocket watch.
She wondered why check the time, when thunder clapped from his lips.
"Today. Three hours left."